The Diary of Draco Malfoy
by Elizabeth Always
Summary: Draco's Diary...full of all his saucy secrets, and of course his Life Goals (1. Kill potter etc.)


Sunday  
  
Apparently, recording one's life in a diary such as this is a worthwhile pursuit for a Malfoy. Father tells me that if I am to achieve my goals I must keep some track of said goals, write down my evil plans (And I must tell you I have several of these plans) then carry them out one by one until I can hold everything I ever wanted in the palm of my hand.  
  
My father does go on a bit doesn't he? I mean, does he honestly expect me to hold the dead bodies of Potter, Weasley, Granger and god knows who else in the palm of my hand? I suppose it was simply a figure of speech but honestly, the man does take his whole 'evil' thing a bit seriously.  
  
But here I am anyway, writing down my hopes and dreams (.or should I say - nightmares?) in this diary. I really don't know what I will do if anyone discovers that I keep a diary, it really is such a girly thing to do. However, I will not be using this diary to obsess over crushes (Malfoy's do NOT have crushes), whine about whatever comes to mind or detail every miniscule detail of my life (why girls find these things necessary when keeping a diary I do not know). No. I will use it strictly for. business.  
  
DRACO MALFOY'S GOALS FOR THE POSSIBLY NOT SO NEAR BUT NOT ENTIRELY DISTANT FUTURE  
  
No. Scratch that.  
  
DRACO MALFOY'S (PLAIN AND SIMPLE) GOALS  
  
1. Kill Potter horribly and make it look like an accident  
2. Maim and Murder his sidekicks Little Miss Know-it-all and The Weasel  
King, just for fun, and the pleasure of seeing them squirm.  
3. Rid the world of muggles, muggle-borns and muggle-lovers ie. The  
WEASLEYS.  
4. Settle down and have some kids  
  
Monday  
  
Seeing my goals in writing does bring a sick sense of joy to my cold, unbeating heart. My new slogan is "Can't wait to kill Potter." Ahhh let me list the ways in which I will end him (which I inevitably will do, unless Lord Voldemort gets there first of course).  
  
1. Drown him in Moaning Myrtles toilet - this way he will a. be drowned  
and b. unwilling to return as a ghost, because this would mean spending a  
lifetime of listening to Moaning Myrtle.moan.  
  
2. Cut him into three pieces and feed each of them to the oaf's three  
headed dog, Fluffy. *Note to self: Pay someone to do the actual cutting  
part (I don't want to spend the next millennium rinsing Potter guts out  
of my robes thanks.)  
  
3. Fulfill both mine, and Filch's (though I do loathe the man, our dreams  
and aspirations are one in the same - excluding the part where all he  
wants in life is to keep the corridors clean and cherish his feral cat)  
deepest desires by blackmailing someone (I haven't quite decided who yet)  
to sign the forms that allow Filch to hang students by their ankles from  
the roof. You can only imagine what follows.  
4. Lock him in a room with Snape. Sooner or later Snape's bound to snap  
right? And Avada Kedavra could just. Slip. Out.  
5. Locate Gilderoy Lockhart, give him a wand and tell him Potter said his  
hair looks like road kill. This one speaks for itself, doesn't it??  
  
I would write more, I really would - but the more I write the harder it will be to choose Potter's demise when the time should finally present itself.  
  
Tuesday  
  
Today did not go well, and I am no closer to achieving any of my goals even though I gave potter and his little friends a good staring at during potions. To make matters worse, the good for nothing red-headed Weasley WEED of a girl, Genny or whatever her name is, had the nerve to bump into me today and knock my books everywhere! I mean honestly, I'm hardly the sort of person one bumps into am I?? The name Malfoy still strikes fear in the hearts of its enemies doesn't it? (Well, that's what Father tells me but I'm beginning to think he's getting a bit old and senile after his stupid advice about keeping a diary to achieve ones goals).  
  
Perhaps I'm losing my touch? I used to be able to set the firsties shivering with a single sneer - being a big, nasty third year (emphasis on the nasty) definitely has its advantages. I must remind myself to see if I still have the same effect on them. If not, I may have to resort to violence or malicious behavior (oh goodie!). Apart from the disturbing encounter with the Weasley girl, I was yelled at during transfiguration with the Ravenclaws when the worm I was meant to be turning into wool suddenly shot up at the ceiling and stuck there. My only comfort is that Filch will have a hard time scraping the wormguts off the roof.  
  
My day did not improve - mostly due to the fact that all I have is Crabbe and Goyle for company. Sure, they look impressive, but try having a conversation with one, all they can manage is to smile and nod and occasionally grunt.  
  
I occasionally engage in conversation with Parkinson, but she isn't much of a conversationalist either (and she talks a lot better than she kisses, so that says something doesn't it?). Talking to her is similar to reading Witch Weekly (which is not one of my favourite pastimes as you may have guessed) - all she can manage is useless gossip. And I talk less and less to Zabini, as I suspect he is gay and might fancy me (really, who can blame him?).  
  
My only intelligent friend is Draco Juniour - the teddy bear I have had since birth. I regularly cast disillusionment charms on him to assure that he is not discovered by no one (but I have a suspicion that Crabbe has spotted him once before at least). When he is not disillusioned, however, he is about 30cms tall and has one eye missing - which just adds to his evil demeanor.  
  
Wednesday  
  
Had Quidditch training this afternoon. I sometimes wonder why I bother, after all - Potter usually manages to steal the cup from under our noses. It is at times like these that I feel I must add to my list of ways to end Potter.  
  
Set him on fire and watch him dance till he burns. Simple, yet effective.  
  
Thursday  
  
It has come to my attention that the Weasley girl has been following me around. I think she is a spy sent by Potter, Granger and the Weasel. I will have to monitor her activities.  
  
12:01 (Lunch) She is sitting at the Gryffindor table, with her insufferable companions. She looks at me. Twice.  
  
12:04 (Still Lunch) Falls off her chair at something 'funny' the weasel- twins said. I don't see why everyone thinks they're so great - they aren't even that funny in my opinion. I mean, how much wit do you have to have to blow up a toilet? (Yeah, I heard they actually did that, the stupid prats. It would have been far funnier if Potter had been sitting on it at the time).  
  
12:05 (Yes it's still Lunch and if I have to write it one more time I'm going to snap my quill in half and stab Potters eyes out with the ends) I'm watching her reflection in Goyle's goblet and she is definitely watching. I wonder what Potter and his little friends have put her up to. Something sinister I am sure.  
  
Friday  
  
The strangest thing happened today. Parkinson and I were erm. at it - shall we say - in an empty classroom at the time. I have to say, I hope all girls don't kiss like her. She tends to get off course and ends up trying to eat me like one of Fortescue's ice-creams. It's actually quite disturbing.  
  
Anyway, we were. well you know. (I had nothing better to do at the time, and I am still trying to clue Zabini in on the fact that I am straight and will not go out with him). And suddenly, there was chalk dust everywhere! I suspect it was Peeves, but someone had managed to charm a blackboard duster to repeatedly hit Parkinson in the head. Apart from the fact that it saved me from the impending danger of her jaws, it was quite hilarious.  
  
She promptly ran out of the room screaming that she needed to wash her hair. In my opinion her hair looks like a dead animal no matter what she does with it, but for hygienic purposes, washing it can't be a bad thing.  
  
I thought I could hear someone laughing, and I would say that it might have been my imagination, but Malfoy's (as I am told) do not have imaginations. In fact, imagination is a punishable offence.  
  
Saturday  
  
As much as I hate sunshine and that sort of thing, I could not pass up the opportunity of possibly seeing the pestilence that is the Weasley twins meet their ends.  
  
They had a bet with one of their equally pestilential friends for ten galleons to swim a length of the lake. I could have done it with my eyes closed - the squid didn't even make an appearance, although there was one glorious moment where one of them (I don't really care which) was nearly drowned by a Grindylow. Nearly.  
  
Sunday  
  
Today was quite pleasant. I yelled at 2 first years (and am happy to say that I still have the effect on them that I mentioned in Tuesday's entry) then I made 3 snide remarks to Potter and his sidekicks (or rather, dropkicks) and I received a parcel of homemade muffins from mother.  
  
What better way to end the week than eating muffins while deciding the fates of Goodie-Goodie-Granger and The Weasel?  
  
1. Bribe all the teachers to mark Granger F in all her assignments.  
Hopefully, she will go mad and as she already seems to argue with  
Weasley a fair bit, she will probably be driven to kill him - which will  
be nice.  
2. Feed Weasley one of his own abysmal Swelling Solutions and watch him  
swell up from the inside. Predictably, Granger will attempt to help him  
(as I suspect they are secretly in love) and will be killed herself when  
Weasley 'sadly' explodes.  
3. Tell Granger that Weasley called her a buck-toothed, bushy haired  
know-it-all. Tell Weasley that Granger called him a freckle faced,  
scared-of-everything freak, then lock them in a room and listen under  
the crack as they fight it out.  
  
Well, that took a load off. I don't know how many more murderous impulses I can keep in check. Now.where did those muffins get to?  
  
Monday  
  
I had potions with the tedious trio today, which is another of my least favourite activities (it is closely followed by such hobbies as being force- fed dungbombs or having cheering charms performed on you - how I hate to look.happy). Longbottom melted another cauldron, which takes the grand tally up to four this year so far. It must be a new world record.  
  
Then I had Herbology with the Ravenclaws. They aren't that bad, Ravenclaws. Well at least not when you compare them to the rest of the scum that pollutes this school (namely, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs.Filch. You know - that lot).  
  
I think Ravenclaws could be quite cunning and sneaky if the bothered - mind you, some of them are completely dotty. I won't mention names (Luna Lovegood, LUNA LOVEGOOD!) but really, some of the Ravenclaw's are crazier than the Gilderoy Lockhart git, who I hear is in St Mungo's trying to get him memory back (personally I think he's better off without it).  
  
But, Ravenclaws aside, Herbology is another thing to add to my (ever growing) list of least favourite activities. I really don't see what all the fuss is about. It's just like muggle gardening really, and obviously - when I leave school, I can pay someone to do that for me. I think it's just Dumbledore's way of saving costs on gardeners.  
  
Tuesday  
  
That Weasley girl has been following me around again. She's been asking the rest of Slytherin all sorts of strange questions.  
  
I saw her talking to Crabbe, and I'm quite worried that he might have let slip about Draco Junior. He always had a weakness for pretty girls. .not that the Weasley weed is pretty or anything. Course not. Ugly thing. With her stupid red hair and her stupid sparkly hazel eyes and. UGLY. The epiphany of ugliness. No. wait. That would have to be Parkinson, but the Weasley girl is a close - very close - second.  
  
Wednesday  
  
I am becoming impatient with this diary-equals-goals idea. Potter has not received so much as a scratch from me, Granger and Weasley haven't dropped dead yet, the world is not one less a muggle because of me, and (and this really is the icing on the cake) I am no closer to settling down and having kids. I think I shall write to mother and inform her that Father IS senile (as I suspected) and is in need of urgent medical attention.  
  
Thursday  
  
There's something strange about that Weasley girl (apart from the obvious things, such as HER FAMILY). She completely ignored me today (well, she didn't stare or sneak around asking questions at least) and walked around with a huge smile on her stunningly.ugly.face. I just know she's up to something. And I'll bet you a galleon Potty, Granger and the Weasel put her up to it.  
  
I will have my revenge.  
  
Friday  
  
My worst fears have been confirmed. The Weasley girl is indeed up to something sinister. This morning, I was on my way down to Quidditch practice with the rest of the team. (Flint has taken to making us practice just before breakfast, mainly so he can walk in wearing his quidditch robes and carrying the broom my father paid for in futile attempts to attract female attention).  
  
Anyway - we were walking down to the pitch, as I said, when the Weasley girl (I have discovered that he name is Ginny, short for Virginia and not Genny at all) showed up wearing a miniscule skirt and top beneath her robes (not that I was looking or anything).  
  
So - the Weasel girl, she actually flirts.with FLINT!!! Of all the numb- sculled, no-brained, ugly, talentless GITS (not to mention the fact that he has a really bad haircut and a really big nose)! I mean, he's not even that good a flier actually. In fact, it's a crime he's on the team at all, let alone captain.  
  
And then - get this - she says "I saw you in the last Quidditch game - you know - against Ravenclaw? You were FABULOUS!"  
  
And that would have been all well and good if he actually had been fabulous, and not fallen of his broom in the first ten minutes. I mean, if I hadn't caught the bloody snitch - (and I really don't know how that happened, truthfully) we would have LOST!  
  
But that's beside the point. The point - (the one that I have neglected to get to) is that the Weasley girl flirted with him.  
  
This can mean only two things: 1. that she has suddenly decided that she finds Flint enormously attractive or 2. She is out to get me.  
  
Let's just say it's not the first one.  
  
Saturday  
  
Apparently it's not just Flint she finds enormously attractive.  
  
Her first victim for today was Zabini - I swear, the guy's gayer than hot pink short-shorts (Hot pink short-shorts on a guy I mean, I have no problem with them on girls.). I felt like yelling out to her: "He's only using you for your brother, Fred!" but (as I am told) Malfoy's do not yell on impulse, unless it's for a very good reason.  
  
I'm beginning to wonder if Malfoy's do anything at all. After Zabini, she moved straight on to Craig Jarvey, one of the beaters on our team. Just for your information, he resembles six foot troll with stumpy legs and a bowl cut. Whatever does she see in him?  
  
Another odd thing happened today, the Ginny girl was just about to send another sleazy compliment Zabini's way when the Weasel himself walked by. So, instead of just letting it out ("oh Blaise, you really are.quite attractive") she called him "an ugly prat!" then, as soon as her brother was out of earshot she told him she was only joking, and asked him if he'd ever though of modeling for Witch Weekly.  
  
This gives me the impression that The Weasel knows about as much about her evil little plan as I do (which is not very much at all).  
  
Obviously this means that it's just her and Potty who are up to no good.  
  
Sunday  
  
I spotted the Weasley girl again today. It was slightly awkward actually. Crabbe, Goyle and I were leaving the great hall this morning after breakfast when she turned up with some of her Gryffindor gal-pals.  
  
We were going opposite ways, and I happened to turn around. to err. well yeah. So I was looking at her. back. and suddenly she turned around to look at me! Our eyes met for one awkward moment before we both turned around again.  
  
I can only think of two possible scenarios. She either keeping an eye on me, as part of her and Potter's secret plot against me or. checking out my arse.  
  
***  
  
The rest of the day passed spectacularly uneventfully. Unless you count Goyle getting stuck in the entrance to the common room.again. Honestly he's huge! He started putting on weight last Christmas but now it's just silly. I'm thinking of having mother send over a Magical Liposuction leaflet for him.  
  
Despite my infinite hate for him, I do envy Potter one thing. At least his friends are capable of intelligent, coherent and even possibly interesting conversation (Actually, I don't know whether the Weasel would pass for intelligent, or Granger for interesting - but if you put them all together.).  
  
And at least none of his friends get stuck in doorways.  
  
Monday  
  
Today was awful. First, there was Charms. Much to my dislike, we are still practicing cheering charms and somehow I managed to be partnered with Parkinson, of all people. That's not the worst of it either - she cheered me up so sufficiently during the lesson that when she asked me to meet her in our usual empty classroom after dinner, I was in too much of a good mood to refuse! I'll bet she did it on purpose.  
  
Last lesson was Care of Magical creatures - with my very favourite half- breed, half-brained Professor. Can you guess who?  
  
Ever since that Hippogriff attacked me during our first lesson and nearly ripped my arm off, Hagrid seemed to get the idea that deadly creatures were not suitable for our first year of this subject.  
  
Unfortunately though, we are now subjected to something far worse. Flobberworms. In fact, I think I would much prefer having my arm ripped off by a Hippogriff (again) than feed another of those disgusting things.  
  
Although they don't try to kill me (which is definitely a plus), they don't do anything else. At all.  
  
***  
  
I don't know how much more of this I can take. I just got back from my short trip to hell with Parkinson. I really hope that the rest of the female population does not kiss like that. I really, really do.  
  
I'm beginning to think there is something wrong with her actually. Possibly, one of her parents was half-dog. It all ads up really - she does resemble one of course, and there is the fact that she kisses more like she's trying to catch a Frisbee in her mouth.  
  
Kissing Pansy is what I imagine a dementor's kiss would feel like. You know. getting your soul sucked out your mouth.  
  
Tuesday  
  
I staged a messy break-up for Parkinson and I today. It was wonderful. Blaise Zabini did most of the script and planning. He was dead helpful actually. He told me what to say and how to say it etcetera.  
  
Unfortunately I think he only did it because he's attracted to me and thinks he's in with a chance. Clueless.  
  
Anyway, the break-up itself was wonderful - very dramatic. It happened in the common room this afternoon and involved lots of nasty names and screaming.  
  
Who would have known that getting rid of Parkinson would be so rewarding. and so very entertaining.  
  
Wednesday  
  
Didn't see the Weasley Weed at all today. This is obviously a blessing. I wonder where she was though. It's quite un-nerving, not knowing where she is. I mean, suppose she's off having sex with half the Slytherin Qudditch team in a broom cupboard somewhere?  
  
I wish I knew what she was up to. She's flirted with practically every Slytherin there is, regardless of age except for.me. And Crabbe and Goyle (but who could blame her). And it's not like I mind that she isn't into me. In fact it's laughable really. Ha. Hahaha.ha.  
  
Thursday  
  
Someone else seems to have clued into the fact that little Miss Weasley is behaving strangely. Zabini warned me today that Ginny had been asking him several personal questions about me, including what was my favourite colour.  
  
I can't see where that comes into the plan that she and Potter undoubtedly have, but Malfoy's (as I am told) always favour the colour black.  
  
Truthfully, I think green is much nicer. Like the greeny colour in her eyes. Not that I noticed them or anything. Of course not. I barely notice if her eyes are open or closed actually. Hardly notice at all.  
  
Friday  
  
Today was just like the others. I had Divination with the old bespectacled bat, Trelawney and nearly fell asleep while Crabbe tried (and failed) to read my fortune in the soggy remains of my tea-leaves. Trelawney came over to 'help' and - predictably - I am going to die within the week. Oh well.  
  
Potions was slightly more fun. Snape took 10 points from Gryffindor (5 each from Potty and the Weasel) and ignored Granger's hand all lesson. I must say, the man has style. We were making a type of healing potion for various injuries. I asked whether it could cure stupidity, thinking perhaps that Crabbe and Goyle could grow new brains or something. But alas no.  
  
I had another strange dream last night. But Malfoy's (can you guess what's coming next?) do not dream. Just like they don't have imaginations. Or impulses. Or crushes.  
  
Saturday  
  
Sunday  
  
As you'll notice, I didn't write yesterday. I was a bit preoccupied.  
  
Some of the Slytherin guys and I were sitting out in the grounds under a tree. Actually, it wasn't just the Slytherin guys and me. She was there. Sitting there - on Blaise Zabini's lap (I once again had the urge to yell out that he was using her to get to one of her many brothers). But I didn't, of course. Then she started twisting Blaise's hair up in her fingers and giggling stupidly at everything he said. She really was starting to piss me off.  
  
And then I knew I'd had enough of it. Had enough of HER. So I caught her eye and looked up at the castle. Then I made my excuses and left, I went back up to the castle to wait for her. I hid in a broom cupboard near the entrance hall and waited till I heard footsteps.  
  
As soon as I was sure she was walking past (and luckily it was her and not Filch and his feral cat), I opened the door and pulled her inside. With my free had I reached into my robes for my wand.  
  
I muttered "Lumos" and the whole cupboard lit up. I said: "Well, I don't know what your up to, Weasley, sneaking around.flirting with my friends - but it's gone quite far enough!" I thought of every curse and jinx that I'd ever wanted to use on Potter, and I concentrated. Then I looked down at her.  
  
Looking at her was my mistake. I lost my nerve - which is another thing that Malfoy's definitely do not do. That was when I did it.  
  
I kissed her. Softly at first, then.  
  
It was nothing like the dementor's (or Parkinson's) kiss. It was brilliant.  
  
Something about forbidden fruit comes to mind. Her lips tasted like cinnamon. When I was so ashamed I couldn't look at her anymore, I said: "If you ever - EVER tell anyone about this. little conversation. I'll hunt you down and kill you. Got it?"  
  
And she nodded, so I left her there, alone in the cupboard and went out to the grounds with the idea to drown myself in the lake.  
  
I mean, I kissed a Weasley. and I liked it. If my father ever found out he'd disown me. Not that I mind really - what with him being senile and everything. But it's true, he would disown me. Because Malfoy's do not have crushes. Because Malfoy's do not have dreams or impulses or imaginations. But mostly, because Malfoy's do not kiss pretty, red-headed, hazel-eyed Weasley girls.  
  
But if that is part of being a Malfoy -  
  
You can count me out. 


End file.
